


Still Standing

by lawsofman



Series: We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Brothers- [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gore, Violence, Wounded Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23312668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawsofman/pseuds/lawsofman
Summary: Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N made it through D-Day and everything that followed after. After three years of Captain Ronald Speirs and herself skirting around each other, they finally get their happy ending.
Relationships: Ronald Speirs/Original Female Character(s)
Series: We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Brothers- [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676491
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend listening to Experience by Ludovico Einaudi while reading this because that is the main inspiration behind this. This is uh....a doozey. I live for angst and sadness in writing, so get ready for that. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 2!

“I know that you’re capable of many things,” Ron’s voice startled Y/N out of her stupor, “But lighting things on fire with your mind alone is not one of them,” There was a slight quirk to his mouth, giving away his serious tone for a joke. He had a towel secured low on his very fit hips. Y/N couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as she took in the view. When her eyes trailed back up to meet his, he had a full on smirk waiting for her. 

“Got room for one more?” He motioned to the deep clawfoot bathtub that she had been soaking in for the better half of an hour.

“For you?” Y/N brought a foot out of the water and pointed her toes at him playfully. “Always,” Ron took a few steps closer, letting his towel drop to the floor. There he stood, in all his glory, with his hands resting on his hips. If there was ever a word to describe Ronald Speirs, it wasn’t ‘shy’.

Y/N sat up in the tub, making the water slosh about, and made room for Ron to sit behind her. His legs extended on either side of her, and there was still room in the massive tub. The fingers of his left hand linked with Y/N’s while his right hand sank under the water to caress her waist. She laid her aching back against the hard planes of his chest and stomach, the muscles taut and firm from the years at war. 

Y/N’s hair, pinned up in a messy bun, cleared the way for Ron to leave soft kisses on the tip of her ear. His lips travelled south, making their way from her ear down to her neck. The soft words he mumbled into my skin made Y/N’s heart feel like it was on fire and it was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Picking up on the change in my breathing, Ron’s hold on her waist tightened to pull her closer to him. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, bringing his mouth back to Y/N’s ear. She held his hands tight, not quite knowing how to answer. His foot rubbed hers under the water. 

“I’m just…overwhelmed,” Y/N breathed out. She blinked hard and the onslaught of tears started to fall. Ron brought his arms to wrap around her shoulders, creating a cage of comfort that only he could give her. “I can’t believe it’s over,”

“In Europe, anyway,” He added, that brought another wave of emotions crashing over me. Y/N turned her torso just slightly, looking up at Ron. His bright blue eyes looked down at her, his face so ruggedly handsome she could swear up and down that he belonged in the films back in America.

“And if Japan doesn’t surrender, you plan on going?”

“If they need me, yes,” Ron answered, “But you have enough points to go home,” He pointed out. Y/N gave him an absent nod. “You’re going back to Maine, right?” 

“…I don’t know,” To be honest, Y/N hadn’t thought about home or returning home in God knows how long. It seemed like such a far off concept that she couldn’t be bothered to waste her time thinking about something that might not even happen. “There’s nothing left for me there,” Y/N turned back to her original position in the water, refusing to make eye contact with Ron. 

“Your family?” She just shook her head, her heart feeling like it was sinking through her chest.

“This whole time I’ve been here -three years,” Y/N’s hand wrapped its way around his forearm, “I didn’t get a single letter from home, Ron. Three years and not a word from _anyone_.” She could feel myself getting even more choked up. “My parents were furious when I enlisted. I hadn’t seen either of them look at me the way they did when I told them I was joining the war. The last time I saw them, they told me that the second I walked out their door, I wasn’t welcome back.” Ron kissed the side of her head, letting his lips linger as she spoke. 

“Alright,” Ron sighed as he let go of his hold and pushed Y/N forward. Both of his hands went for her waist and twisted her around to face him. He brought Y/N’s legs on either side of his hips and rested her bottom on his lap. Y/N’s pruning hands went to his broad shoulders. The tiny, white scars that lined his chest and arms were marvels to look at, the dark hair dusting his chest covering most of them. 

Stubble lined Ron’s face, the dark hair such a contrast with his complexion and his bright green eyes. He brought his wet hands to cup Y/N’s cheeks. “We’ve waited three years. Three very long, very agonizing years to do what we’re doing right now, and regardless of where I’m sent, I intend to do this with you for the rest of my life if you’ll have me,” The seriousness in Ron’s eyes wasn’t a foreign look, but it was foreign to their situation. 

Y/N rested her forehead against Ron’s, her nose just barely nudging his. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck. The scrape of his calloused fingers was enough to reignite the fire in Y/N’s body.

“I’ve crossed a myriad of these godforsaken countries by the skin of my teeth and you think I’m gonna run off with someone else? I don’t think so,” Ron’s lips were mere centimeters away from Y/N’s. Her hands slid up from his shoulders and cupped his strong neck. The baby hairs at his nape slipped through her fingers and Ron let out a groan. 

“Then it’s settled, Sergent. You’re going to Boston,” A smile made its way through the tears that had since stopped with Ron’s reassurances. “And when I get home, I’m going to marry you,” Ron’s lips brushed over her. At his admission, she pushed her lips firmly to his. “I’m gonna build you a house,” He said between kisses. “And I’m going to cherish you until the day that I die.” Y/N pushed back from him. The absolute adoration in his eyes made her heart swell. 

Three years of longing looks, the minute unseen touches here and there all came to this point. Three years they skirted around each other out of respect of his rank and Y/N toeing the thin line that she was given. One wrong move, much less fraternization with a superior, and she was out. They respected each other enough to put the developing feelings aside as long as the war was raging on in Europe. That didn’t mean the occasional modestly intimate moments didn’t happen, but they were very few and far between. There were more important things at hand, but now...now he was hers for the near future.

“I’d expect nothing less, Captain Speirs,” Ron’s warm, wet hands traveled down her back to tilt her hips to his, and for the third time that morning, they joined together in a passionate -albeit lazy- round of intimacy. 

* * *

“You boys don’t know how lucky you are, coming into the war this late,” Y/N explained as she was driven back to her station in Berchtesgaden. When the war in Europe may have been over with Hitler’s suicide, it wasn’t over for the soldiers who still occupied the countries. Both the driver and secondary passenger, Privates Donahue and Netz, listened as she told them stories of what we bore witness to by the time they were dropped four months ago. 

“When did you drop, miss?” Donahue, the driver, asked. 

“On D-Day,” She replied. 

“No shit,” The private in the back breathed out. “That’s incredible. Until I met you, I didn’t think they let women serve, ma’am, and you’ve _made rank_ ,” Netz said, genuinely impressed.

“Typically, they don’t, other than the nurses corp. I, along with a few others, was a bit of an experiment that was kept under wraps for posterity’s sake. I think they wanted to see how long it would take a woman to flake, but the joke’s on them,” Y/N turned and smiled at the private. She could see his cheeks flame up even in the darkness of night. “I’m still standing,” She took a moment before she continued. “You boys see any action?”

“No, Ma’am,” They both replied.

“Just the camps,” Donahue added on. Y/N nodded.

“Then let that be enough for you. What we all witnessed there is an atrocity that wasn’t exclusive to that camp alone. There is true evil in this world, gentlemen. Don’t go out of your way searching for it.” The conversation was silenced when Donahue slowly braked in the middle of the road. 

There was an abandoned car on the left and two bodies -face down- on either side with a pool of relatively fresh blood in the middle of the road. “Stay here,” Y/N ordered and got out of the car. She first went to the body on the left. It was still warm and rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet. If she had to take a guess, she’d say both men died relatively recently. 

When she turned over the first man, a British officer -a Major-, her heart sank. He had a shot to the head. The war was over and allied men were still dying. Y/N sifted through his pockets to see if he had anything she could hand over to Major Winters, along with his dog tags, but it looked like he was already picked clean. 

Curious.

Y/N quickly ran over to the other body, a German officer, was also face down. When she pushed his hefty body over, my confusion only grew. He, too, was shot in the head. The heavy feeling that grew in my chest that something was terribly wrong kicked my legs into gear back to the vehicle.

“Donahue, get us to CP as quickly as possible,” Y/N ordered. 

“Yes, Sarge,” The private nodded and stepped on the gas. There was no more friendly conversation. There weren’t anymore questions. Whatever either private was wondering, they kept it to themselves for the time being. Donahue flew like a bat out of hell, kicking up a cloud of dust behind us in the darkness. A few miles down the road, Y/N’s head snapped to the right, catching a glimpse of something out of place.

“Whoa! Whoa! Stop the truck!” Donahue hit the breaks, skidding the tires across the dirt. “Back up!” She ordered. Donahue shifted the gears and did as he was told. We flew back about a hundred yards when she ordered him to stop and park. “Stay put.” This time Y/N made sure to unclip the pistol on her hip when she got out of the truck, her hand floating over the weapon.

Another military vehicle was sitting on the side of the road with its tail end in the ditch. The lights of Donahue’s vehicle cascaded over the truck and illuminated a man sitting in the driver seat. Her instincts -which she had learned to trust exclusively at this point- were telling her that something was very, very wrong and her heart pounded as she continued to the vehicle.

“Private?” The man only stared forward. “Private, do you need assistance?” This made him turn his head to look at her. He squinted his bloodshot eyes and scoffed.

“Assistance?” He slurred, “Do I need _assistance_?!”

“Let’s get you back to CP, private,” Y/N coaxed, trying to get him out of the vehicle. “Are you injured?”

“Only in my _fucking head_!” He screamed at Y/N. She recognized the look in his eyes. They were vacant, cold. The lights were on, but nobody was home. This man had checked out and she recognized the danger she was in. Her hand slowly lowered to the gun. She brought my other hand out in a show that she wasn’t a danger to him.

“It’s okay, I understand. What’s your name? Whatever is going on, we can talk this out. No one has to get hurt.” He just shook his head and made a wave with his own pistol. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me your name. Just put the weapon down. We’re on our way to CP. There’s room in the truck for you. I can get you the-” Two quick pops sounded before she could even comprehend what was happening. 

“Sarge!” She heard Netz shout as she fell to her knees. Confusion was the only thing her brain could get a grip on. Y/N felt blood run down the side of her face and it blinded her left eye and dripped into her open mouth. She brought a hand up to wipe her eye, but the blood just kept falling “Sargent Y/L/N!” It sounded like his voice was coming from the bottom of a bottle, all echos and hollow. 

Y/N’s chin fell to her chest and that’s when she noticed the blooming of red forming on her chest like ink spreading on a piece of paper. It was as if seeing the wound made everything come crashing down around her and she fell to her back on the dirt road. Y/N heard the sound of tires peeling out and a rifle firing while one of the privates, she couldn’t make out who, skidded to a stop at her side. 

“Keep your eyes open, Sarge!” They shouted as they pushed down on the wound on her chest. Y/N’s shaking hand tried to go up to her head, but it was quickly grabbed and pushed down. “I need you to stay still, Sargent,” The voice begged as his shaking hands tried to find his med-kit. Y/N heard something rip and her head was lifted just slightly while he wrapped a makeshift bandage around it.

“Netz! _Netz_! Leave him! We need to get her in the truck _now_!” His voice was drowned out by her hollow breathing. Every sound on that dirt road faded away and the only things Y/N could hear were her pulse beating like a hammer, and her exhales. “Help me lift her! Hurry!” If Y/N could’ve screamed when they picked her up, she would’ve, but it was like her brain was on a delay. 

“We’re gonna get you fixed up, Sarge, don’t you worry, alright?” Netz’s voice -though sounding like it was caught under a wave, was clear with panic as he and Donahue loaded Y/N into the backseat. 

“Netz, you gotta keep pressure on her chest. Keep pressure on her or she’s gonna bleed out,” Donahue instructed. Y/N tried to speak, but her mouth could only shakily open and close as she looked up at Netz. Her head was on his lap and now that she could see his face, it reminded her of the men who dropped on D-Day. The pure terror and panic of not knowing what to do was evident. _This is what it felt like to be on the other end_.

Y/N brought a hand to Netz’s that was holding a makeshift gauze to her chest and held the top of it. She squeezed his hand as hard as she could to let him know that she was still with him. 

“Don’t you worry, alright? Don’t you worry,” Netz assured. “Donny, get this fucking thing moving!” Netz shouted, his voice choking up. 

“Medic!” Donahue screamed as the truck slid into the CP checkpoint. Soldiers waved him through and he hit the gas once more. “We need a medic! Help, we need a fucking medic!” People started running to the truck as it skidded to a stop.

“Medic!” Another voice shouted over the hum of the men. Y/N could make out the sound of pounding boots as her eyes started to twitch. “Get a stretcher!” The voice shouted into the chaos. “What the fuck happened?!” 

“She’s shot in the head and the chest, sir!” Netz explained as he helped lift Y/N out of the truck. A heavy groan left her mouth at the movement.

“Where the fuck is the medic?!” The new voice shouted. “Come on, fuck the stretcher, we gotta move her now!” Y/N’s breaths were coming out in quick gasps, the pain starting to settle in. “We need someone to keep pressure on her chest! Someone get Captain Speirs!” The voice said from her feet. This time Y/N did scream when a hand pressed down on her chest. Y/N’s body thrashed in the air as someone held her by her shoulders and her feet as they carried her. “It’s about time, Doc,”

“Y/N, Y/N, it’s Gene. I need you to calm down,” Tears were falling down Y/N’s temples with the pain and confusion. Her mind still couldn’t put the puzzle pieces together on what was happening. Y/N’s hands tried to push Gene’s away to relieve the pain. She screamed once more in agony. 

“Get her into the gymnasium up ahead,” Gene ordered. “Y/N you need to calm down!” His voice was patient with an edge of hardness. 

A group of men kicked the doors open, shouting orders for plasma and a doctor. 

“Come on, right here. Put her down.” The men eased Y/N down on a table. “Hold her legs and her arms, both of you,” Gene instructed as he ripped her jacket open and cut through the top half of the shirt. The bullet hole in her chest was bleeding profusely when he removed the makeshift gauze to look at the wound and if he didn’t stop the flow, she wasn’t going to make it. “Bullet’s still in her,” A bright light flashed over Y/N’s eyes when Gene stuck his fingers into the hole in her chest, the blinding white-hot pain overtaking everything.

They say that when you’re in the last moments of your life, you get flashes of the things you’ve experienced.

The only thing Y/N could see was Ron, standing on the balcony of that ornate bedroom in the Eagle’s Nest, haloed by the light of the rising sun with a bottle of Champagne in his hand the day after they had taken Berchtesgaden. He turned, in that moment, and smiled so genuine and so _soft_ as she lay in the bed, sheets pooled at her waist, hair spread along the pillows. It was just as overwhelming as a memory as it was when she experienced it firsthand. 

Y/N remember that moment feeling like heaven, absolute bliss, and maybe it was. _If this was my last thought before I left this world behind, then I was luckier than most_ , she thought.

“ _Ron_ ,” Y/N’s voice was slurred as the memory faded into the reality that she was bleeding out in a German gymnasium, but it was the first and only word she was able to get out in her delirium. “ _Ron_ ,”

“It’s too deep. I can’t get it out,” Gene said to the men around him. His hands were covered in blood as he shook his head. “Where's the doctor?!” Gene shouted and two men left in search of the surgeon. Gene poured more sulfa on the wound and held a compress to it. “You,” He instructed to one of the men, “Hold this,” There was a shifting of pressure as Gene moved up to Y/N’s head. She felt the bandages unravel and a hiss sounded from between his teeth.

“Christ Almighty,” Gene whispered as he inspected the wound. 

“Ron’s on his way, Y/N. He’s on his way.” Tab’s face came into view on the other side, making Y/N turn her head just slightly. He held her hand in his -as well as my attention- so Gene could inspect the exit wound on the back of her scalp. “We have a doctor that’s gonna work on you, alright? Get you back to tip top shape. We already have the bastard that did this to you, okay? He shot Grant too,” Y/N blinked at Tab, tears falling as her entire body throbbed from the blood loss.

“ _Jesus, Tab_ ,” A voice reprimanded as Gene rewrapped her head.

“I’m givin’ ya some morphine, Y/N,” Gene’s gentle voice soothed as the pinch of a syrette in Y/N’s shoulder made her wince. One of his hands came to her forehead, caressing it soothingly. “We gotta put you down for a while so the doctor can work on ya, alright?” The heat of the morphine coursing through Y/N’s veins calmed her down and her breathing evened out. Y/N’s eyes, heavy with the need to sleep, fluttered closed and the last sight before she shut her eyes was Tab’s tearstained face as he held her hand tight. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N made it through D-Day and everything that followed after. After three years of Captain Ronald Speirs and herself skirting around each other, they finally get their happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the outpouring of support for this lil fic. Writing it was very therapeutic for me. I hope you enjoy it!

A prison.

That’s what Y/N could describe purgatory as -or, what she had thought purgatory was. That in-between space where you’re not really alive, but also not completely dead. It was black, vacant -a void. She didn’t know just how long she was living in her own personal hell, but it was never ending.

Y/N didn’t know if it was just her mind playing tricks on her, or if she actually was hearing voices speak to her, but she listened to everything they had to say to her. It was Ron, and Tab. Those were the main two that spoke to her frequently. Lip, Dick, and Nixon all made their appearances here and there, but Ron and Tab were the consistent voices that gave her a light in the infinite darkness.

Y/N remembers waking up after her surgery. Not really _waking up_ , but becoming conscious of her surroundings -of the sounds that seemed completely amplified around her. She remembered hearing Ron screaming like an animal at the staff of the German hospital -he wanted Y/N put in a room away from all of the wounded soldiers. ‘ _Put her in a goddamn office. I don’t give a fuck, but I want her alone! Do you understand me! She is to be isolated with a nurse on her at all times!_ ”

There was a moment in time that Ron had a breakdown when it was just the two of them in the middle of the night. Y/N was also sure he that if he knew she was listening, he would’ve held it in. She could hear the held in sobs that he tried not to let escape as he sat next to her bed in that cramped doctor’s office they had taken the desk out of and rolled her bed into. Y/N heard every sob, every sniffle, every broken down plead to _God_ to let her live. She felt his forehead rest on her cold hand, as she lay there unmoving, while the man who had ran through enemy lines, the man who mercilessly killed german POW’s, the man who never showed an ounce of weakness, cried for mercy as she could only listen on.

Ron didn’t talk to her much after his meltdown, but he was ever at her bedside, holding her hand in the hopes that she would wake up. There were days, some more so than others, that he would just remind her of their plans for the future. Of what their lives would be like years down the road.

“ _I promised you that I would cherish you until the day that I died, and I plan on keeping that promise, Y/N. So if you go before I do, we’re going to have a big problem._ ” If Y/N could’ve laughed then, she would’ve because it was a very Ron thing to threaten someone on their deathbed.

Then there were the days where he would simply tell her that he loved her. Regardless of what he said to her, every word mattered. He didn’t know it then, but every word he said to her would be the building blocks of her recovery.

Floyd Talbert, bless the man, would visit her and ramble on about anything and everything, giving Ron a chance to go take a shower and get some food, though Ron would always say he was fine. He’d still gratefully leave Y/N in Tab’s hands.

Tab regularly got notes from Nixon about what was happening stateside, any big news regarding Hollywood and the starlets. When word came out about the new Humphrey Bogart film called “ _Conflict_ ” that was coming out in August, he knew he had to tell Y/N. “ _An engineer trapped in an unhappy marriage murders his wife in the hope of marrying her…younger…sister_ -Jesus Christ, what the hell are they making in Hollywood these days, Y/N/N? Yikes,” Tab murmured the last bit as he read the synopsis to Y/N.

Tab remembered a time in a frozen foxhole that seemed lightyears away where he and Y/N talked about films and who their favorite respective actors and actresses were. Humphrey Bogart was amongst Y/N’s top favorites, ‘ _but there’ll never be anyone more handsome and charming than Carey Grant. He’s the man of my dreams, Tab. The total package. Maybe when this war is over, I’ll go to California -see if I can woo ol’ Carey. You think I have a chance?’_ Tab heard Y/N’s whistful voice in his head at the memory, leaving a sad grin on his face. He also remembered telling Y/N that, ‘ _of course you have a chance. Hell, you could have any man on his knees for you if you’d just ask._ ’, which made her laugh.

He wasn’t joking.

Sure, Y/N was attractive by all conventional standards, but it was her grit -her tenacity- and the sparkle in her eyes that made her shine. And to see all of that light taken away in an instant -over a confrontation that meant absolutely nothing-, and turned into a shell before him, was enough to bring tears to his eyes. And if the thought wasn’t enough, the mere sight of her would’ve been.

Y/N’s head had been shaved, leaving her bald with a bandage wrapped every way to Sunday to support the entrance and exit wounds. The wounded side of her face was bruised nasty shades from the impact. The wound on Y/N’s chest was a completely different story. If she ever woke up, she’d see that she had nearly thirty stitches holding her together.

* * *

Y/N felt pressure on her right hand as she started to regain consciousness once more. It felt like a sick game that happened God knows how many times at this point. She was aware of her surroundings, but she wasn’t awake. The heat and the roughness of the callouses and the pressure were familiar. Y/N eyes felt like they were glued shut as she tried to open them, but she didn’t have the strength, and her eyes would not cooperate. With all of her willpower, she wiggled the fingers of the hand that was being held.

“Y/N?” Ron’s voice sounded like it was far above Y/N, as if he was hovering just above the water as she sank to the bottom. That was different.

“You have to wake up,” He pleaded. He was going to be talkative today. Good.

The disconnect between Y/N’s mind and body should’ve been a red flag, initially, but confusion and panic were the emotions to take the wheel as she gained consciousness, but still could not open her eyes. With all of her might, Y/N curled the fingers of her right hand like a spider, trapping Ron’s hand with it.

  
Ron watched on, amazed, and taking note of Y/N’s accelerated breathing.

“Come on,” He coaxed, his voice gentler than it had ever been before. “Open your eyes, Y/N. I know you’re in there. Please, just open your eyes.” His grip loosened on Y/N’s hand. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. Squeeze it if you can, Y/N,” The muscles in her arm cramped mightily as she put in every effort to squeeze his hand once more. Y/N’s mouth opened and a wheeze came out.

“Nurse!” He stood, shouting for anyone to come to the room, but not letting go of Y/N’s hand. “Nurse!” Ron’s voice cracked. A stampede of feet came rushing down the hall and three women came into the cramped room.

“Has she opened her eyes at all?” The eldest American nurse of the trio asked as she stood opposite of Ron, checking Y/N’s face as she continued to wheeze.

“No,”

“Lucy, I need a few wet warm cloths,” The youngest looking nurse nodded and took off, returning moments later.

“Miss,” The nurse said, gently rubbing the warm cloth around Y/N’s eyes, clearing them of the debris that built up over the last few days. “Miss, I need you to calm down. We’re trying to help you, but you need to calm down.” Y/N’s breathing slowed to hiccups and she kept her squeeze on Ron’s hand. “You’re doing great, Miss. You’re doing great.” The nurse checked the bandages, happy with what she saw. “Can you speak, Miss Y/L/N?” Y/N wanted to strangle the woman with each question, but focused on what she could do -if she could do anything.

“I…I…” Y/N was able to get out. Ron nearly gasped from beside her.

“That’s great, Y/N. Keep going.” The nurse encouraged.

“I…I…” It was all Y/N could get out, and she felt that if she stopped the momentum, she’d never be able to get another syllable out again. “I…I…” Ron felt his heart shatter once more. No one knew the extent of the damage to her brain until she woke up -if she woke up at all. Now, it was all falling around him. Of course, he had thought of every situation of what could be, but to see it happening before his very eyes was something different entirely.

“That’s good,” The nurse encouraged once again. “You need to open your eyes, Y/N. Come on,” Ron squeezed Y/N’s hand. “We can’t help you unless you open your eyes, alright? You do that, and the hard part will be over, I promise.”

For a moment, Y/N was still. Her breathing had calmed, but she still had a twitch to her mouth as if she was trying to say words that just wouldn’t connect.

Then, for the first time in what felt like one hundred years, light encumbered the darkness. A whimper left Y/N’s lips at the intrusion. Y/N’s eyelids cracked open, leaving her lids to flutter. Ron, upon seeing Y/N’s eyes open for the first time in nearly a week, cried.

Silent tears fell as he saw Y/N claw her way back to the land of the living.

* * *

Two and a half months.

Y/N sat in that hospital for two and a half months in recovery.

She counted herself lucky. She had all movement -albeit somewhat shaky movement- in her limbs, and as far as she knew, her brain hadn’t been too scrambled. Her mind would occasionally blank on some things, but her thoughts were all there. The only issues she had were her speech and fine motor skills. The nurses tried working on writing when her lack of speech became an obvious issue and low-and-behold, when you get shot in the head, your scribe skills are one of the first things to go.

Y/N’s emotions were a never-ending whirlwind. Every morning she woke up, she felt like her toes were standing on the edge of a window sill that was ten stories up above the world, and she was about to jump.

She felt volatile from the mounting frustration.

Ron saw her every day, and he’d kiss her and tell her that he loved her every day. When she found out what they had done to her hair, she nearly had a breakdown on top of everything else. He was there to console her, but his presence just made everything worse. As far as Y/N was concerned, she was a grotesque monster that needed to be locked away, undeserving of Ron’s love and everything he had to offer her. She was just not worth the trouble.

Ron took everything in stride. Long gone were her feminine looks and her witty words, both things Y/N had looked forward to getting back to now that the war in Europe was over. Now, those things belonged in her head, locked away within her like a sick glass menagerie of items that could be seen, but never touched. The only difference now was that she was genuinely awake for the constant torment.

Tab came to see her almost as frequently as Ron. He’d read her the news like he usually did when she was out, and now she’d nod or shake her head, depending on what they were talking about.

It seemed like something was preoccupying Tab’s mind on this particular day. He looked mildly uncomfortable and he’d glance over to Y/N as she sat cross-legged in the bed, then dart his attention back to the paper in his hands. When he got between articles, he sighed at put the paper on the bed.

“Can I ask you a question, Y/N/N?” Y/N furrowed her brows, but nodded all the same. Tab opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to formulate his question without upsetting Y/N. “Did you see anything? When you were out,” He clarified his question. Y/N immediately shook her head. “Nothing? At all?” Again, she shook her head. Tab thought for a moment. “Did you hear anything?” Y/N blinked, then nodded slowly. “What did you hear?”

Y/N focused on her speech. She took a deep breath and tried to form the words she had been working on for the past two months.

“T-” She started to sound out. Tab waited patiently. “T-ta-ta-ta” Y/N took another deep breath, trying to not let her frustration and embarrassment consume her.

“You’ve got this, Y/N/N. Take your time,”

“T-aw-k. Talk.” She repeated clearly after her mouth formed the syllables.

“Talk?” Y/N nodded. “Who?” She pointed to Tab. “Me?” He pointed to himself. Again, Y/N nodded with a sad, closed lip smile on her face. “You heard me talk. What about Speirs? Anyone else?” She nodded.

“C-” She let out a harsh ‘c’ sound. “C-c-on-. Con-fl-ic,”

“Conflict?” Y/N nodded. “Was someone fighting in here?” She shook her head, that sad smile still on her lips.

“F-f-il-m” A light dawned over Tab’s head and his eyes opened wide in surprise.

“Film! Humphrey Bogart!” He shouted happily. “You heard all of that?” Y/N nodded. “I can’t believe it,” Tab breathed out. “I am so sorry, Y/N. Hearing me jab at you for a week straight when you couldn’t tell me to shut my trap had to’ve been a fate worse than death.” This brought a breathy laugh out of Y/N, but Tab’s smile dropped when he noticed the tears welled up in her eyes. He could see Y/N turn her head to try and blink them away out of embarrassment, and reached his hand out to hers, holding tight. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. You’ve been through hell and back. If you need to cry, then you cry. I won’t judge you for it. Ever.” Tab saw Y/N’s jaw wobble before she let out a few quiet sobs that she couldn’t hold back.

One ofY/N’s hands came up to rest on the bandage on her chest as she leaned forward, sobbing. She felt the stitches pull on both her chest and head, but the pain was only a dull throb compared to the emotional damage she was continuously going through.

“H-h-har-d.”

“I know it’s hard.” Y/N’s brows furrowed in acute frustration.

“So-sor-”

“You don’t get to apologize for anything. You hear me? Ever.” Y/N bit her lip at Tab’s hard tone. She nodded, a frown heavily weighing her down. “You’re gonna get through this. It’s gonna be a long uphill battle, but you can do this.” Tab shook their connected hands. “You’ve done so many incredible things that everyone told you a woman couldn’t. You proved everyone wrong, myself included. You changed history. If you can do _that_ , you can do _this_. You have every one of us behind you, especially after this war is over.” Y/N shakily brought his hand to her mouth and gave the back of his hand a loving peck to let Tab know just how appreciative she was for him and everything he’s done for her.

“Tha-nk you,” Y/N got out without much resistance. Tab gave her a thousand watt smile in return.

“Anything for you, Y/N/N.”

* * *

Over the next three weeks, Y/N was visited by most of the men in her company. Tab usually towed them behind him to make sure she was comfortable with how she spoke around them. She was able to form more than one syllable responses, and Tab wasn’t one to take credit for anything, but Y/N would tell anyone that it was him that got her going in the right direction.

As time went on, Ron wasn’t able to spend as much time with Y/N due to the impending jump on Japan, but knowing she was on the mend was motivation enough for him to jump into Japan, stick the Japanese dictator in the neck to end the war, and head back home to Y/N. It was a simple plan and he would follow through with it.

It was _Wednesday, August 15th, 1945_ when Ron strolled into the German hospital. He felt oddly at ease, almost as if he was floating down the hallways of the kraut hospital. When Ron turned into Y/N’s makeshift room, he found her fast asleep. She wasn’t one for midday naps, but Tab had told him that she was having trouble sleeping at night. Something about the darkness of the room upset her too much to sleep.

Ron took a moment for himself to look at Y/N. Her hair was starting to grow out. It was only an inch or so long, but it was still progress. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t shocked when they brought her out of surgery and all of her hair was gone. Still, Ron only saw beauty and persistence when he looked at her -especially now.

She had worked herself to tears over the last few weeks as she spoke and spoke and spoke. She was able to hold short conversations, give short answers, while her tongue and her mouth were getting used to the movements once more. Y/N’s confidence was also improving.

Ron was infinitely proud of Y/N. The feeling was nestled deep in his chest as he looked at her sleeping form. There isn’t a day that goes by that he didn’t wish that he pulled the trigger on the I Company replacement, to have ended that miserable man’s existence in the name of vengeance. He dreamed of it often -of what could have been- but he also knew that it wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t fix Y/N, and it wouldn’t fix Grant. In a way, at that very moment with the gun to the private’s forehead, Ron Speirs had turned a new leaf.

The clicking of Ron’s boots on the tiled floor startled Y/N awake with a gasp.

“It’s just me,” Ron soothed. Y/N’s chest heaved as she blinked up at the stunning man. He had removed his cap, folded it and tucked it into the waist of his trousers. His dark hair was combed neatly, the sides freshly cut, the top trimmed. His uniform looked fresh pressed. “I’m sorry to wake you up,”

“It…is…oh..kay.” Y/N got out, still dazed from her nap. Ron smiled softly at her, and Y/N just soaked it up. His green eyes were warm as they held her gaze. _I’d never get sick of it_ , she promised herself.

“I have some news,” Ron had spoken to her about the potential jump into Japan, to end this war once and for all. Her thoughts started swirling. Nearly all the men would be leaving. Tab would be leaving. _Ron_ would be leaving to lead Easy. She couldn’t even begin to think of taking the trip back home alone and dealing with this without him.

Y/N held her breath, waiting for Ron to finish. Ron could see the fear in her eyes as clear as day. He sat down on the bed at her hip, sitting cockeyed, and grabbed her hands in his. His air of warmth and love and adoration never left him as he looked down at Y/N.

“Happy VJ Day,” Was all he said in that silky smooth tone. Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“VJ?” She asked. Ron’s grin turned into a toothy smile as he brought her hand up to his lips. He leaned down closer to Y/N, and in the softest whisper he could muster, he said:

“Japan has surrendered. We’re going home, Y/N.” The weight of the world fell off of Y/N’s shoulders. Ron let Y/N’s hands go and he used his to gently cradle her face. “I’m gonna get you home,” He kissed her sweetly, “I’m gonna do my damnedest to get you back on your feet,” Another kiss, “And then I’m going to make you my wife.” Another kiss, but he drew it out a bit longer before pulling back and looking down at Y/N with a boyish gleam. “As long as you’ll have me, of course,” The smile never left Ron’s face, and seeing this particular man tell her of _their_ plans for the future, Y/N’s heart melted.

“Forever,”

Turns out, Ronald Speirs was Y/N’s very own Carey Grant with his Hollywood looks and larger than life attitude. And he was all hers.


End file.
